De Patre Vostro
by Lizzy Rebel
Summary: many things in this hume world have disappointed her. Fran, Balthier, Ashe, and everything in between. two-shot complete
1. Part I

**disclaimer: **disclaims

**teaser: **many things in this hume world have disappointed her

**author's notes: **okay, guys. Here's an angst little twoshot that features two of my favorite characters from FFXII. Fran and Balthier. I especially like Fran, because to me she always came off as more of an third-party than anything else. All her views seemed so far beyond anything everyone else in the ground though. And I've always been curious about her relationship with Balthier. My personal feelings are I just can't see them in a romantic relationship. It's all to Han and Chewie for me. XP

Oh, and just FYI, De Patre Vostro is latin for "About Your Father". It makes sense in the next part.

* * *

**/De Patre Vostro/**

**-Part I-**

_"But will you tell me?" he asks._

_"It is a very long story," is all she offers and wonders if it can be as simple as that. If she can merely say such a thing and walk away from the question._

_But, no, she knows too well that this day was long coming. And she has prepared herself for this day since she first saw him. Perhaps that is the thing about parenthood. One is never quite as prepared as one likes to think._

_"Fran, don't I deserve to know?"_

_Yes, Fran thinks, he does.  
_

_--_

She first sees him in a dive at Balfonheim. She has lived for many years in this hume world, and she has come to recognize that look of starvation in his eyes. This child has not eaten in many days.

Of course, that does not make him very much different from the countless other children that flock to the pirate city to escape one persecution or another. She has come to understand that the humes are not happy unless they are solidifying their class ranks.

Except, perhaps, in Balfonheim.

She will ignore him, she thinks. Humes have long stopped interesting her. In fact, very little of this world holds much interest for her now. And once, she had held such high hope for this world divorced so far from her own.

But she notices something about the hume boy that is unique. Something about his eyes. He is far too young to be that old. To humes, he is not quite a man, but close to being so. To her, he still an infant and too far from his mother's protective bosom.

In his eyes, though, she sees something that she has only seen in humes before. That cunningness. That cleverness. Even as he starves, he observes, and he learns, and if not today, than tomorrow, he will go to bed with a full stomach.

Children are the most amazing of all creatures, she finds. Of all the many things she has seen, it is the hume child's ability to survive that keeps her from regretting her decision to leave.

And so she stands and walks over to him, and ignores her own nagging voice at this foolishness in the back of her head. She has done so little things impulsively since that day when she turned her back on her people. In this hume world, they are allowed to make rash decisions, and she is now more a denizen of this world than anything else.

The boy looks up at her, eying her a little wearily, and she smiles at him.

"In Balfonheim," she tells the little hume boy, "thieves can have their hands cut off. Shall I buy you something to eat?"

"I don't need—" he tells her before stopping himself, his voice lined with the arrogance that comes to someone who only has their pride left, and nothing else. "Well, as long as you're buying."

She looks him over. He is not very tall, even for short humes, and if they stand he will probably not reach her shoulder. But, she thinks, he will grow into height. She can tell by the length of his arms, which are too skinny for him.

And if he didn't look so very unhappy, he would probably be very handsome. His voice is a strange one, as well, and something she has only heard in Archades, and even then only in certain parts of Archades.

Carefully, she sits, watching him watching her. His face is a bit grimy, she notices, from mud and blood, which means he knows how to fight, and his dark blonde hair is tussled around his head.

"You're a Viera, then?" he asks, not accusingly, as some humes do. More with a curiosity that amuses her. "I've never actually met one in person before. Read all about them, of course, but..."

"I have never meet a hume boy playing so vainly at pirate," she answers, and realizes that her word come off as too cruel. Sometimes these hume word games go beyond her, but she offers him another smile that eases the sting. "You are very far from home, I think."

"No," he says, his eyelids lowering, hiding his soul from her. "I'm not. This is my home."

She never understands humes ability to deny their heritage. She has left home, and thinks that she will never go back, never can go back, but she has never thought that it was not where she had come from, what had shaped her.

But it is hardly her place to lecture little hume runaway boys so instead she says, "Might I ask your name, pirate?"

The pause is only two moments long. He has been waiting for this for a very long time. For someone to ask him this. To solidify this illusion inside himself. She sees this, all within his eyes.

"Balthier."

She does not need her sharp, long ears to catch his lie, but this she understands, at least. Once, she had a different name, as well. Or, rather, she had two names. Her true name, whispered to her by powers far more ancient than the most ancient hume king.

But she has not heard her true name spoken to her in thirty years, and she has found that she cannot remember how to say it herself. So she has contented herself to call herself what the humes translate her name into in their rustic tongue.

For near fifty years she has called herself Fran and the boy who is called Balthier will call her that for all of his days.

--

When he is done feeding himself—she must commend him on his restraint, for though she offers to buy him as much as he wishes, he only eats one meal—she offers him lodging at the inn. Fran tells herself that she does this because she has sensed a storm on the horizon and she does not like the idea of hume child Balthier shivering in the cold rain.

He leaves after the meal, and she will not be terribly surprised if he does not return. Nor, she thinks, will she look for him. Viera decency and hume decency are very much alike, and offering him her room is all she has to do.

But he returns not long after leaving, this time carrying a small rucksack over his shoulder.

"My—I was told once," the boy begins as Fran leads him to the inn. She does not say anything at the slight pause at the beginning of his words. "I was told that Viera didn't care very much for humes. I've never understood that, of course. Why leave your Wood if you want nothing to do with humes? But there are a couple around here and they do seem to avoid contact."

She cannot tell him, of course, what it is like to leave the love of the Wood, to deny its soft Word. Just as she cannot say what it is like watch the world age and wither while a Viera remains as she has always been.

This is not something hume minds can comprehend, she knows. So she cannot tell him.

"I am a strange Viera," she tells him instead.

Balthier sets himself a cot on the floor. Fran would have offered him the bed to sleep, but he seems more than content with the floor, and she has cannot sleep comfortably on the hard ground.

"Hume boy," she begins, and then says, "Balthier. Where are you going?"

"Oh, I don't know," Balthier answers on a shrug. "I was thinking, perhaps, Rabanastre. Or, better yet, Rozarria. That should be far enough away."

"So you are running," she guesses and watches his face close. "Humes seem to enjoy doing that. Running from things."

The hume boy's chin shoots out and Fran wants to chuckle at his stubbornness, but she suspects she will injure his ego.

"Aren't you running too? From the Wood?"

"No. I left the Wood, but I am not running from it." He will not understand that, she knows, but perhaps in time, when he is much older, he will.

They grow silent as they prepare for bed. She notices that Balthier carries a gun with him, but she sees hands that have wielded a sword. Fran is curious to what caused that change him.

"I shall take you to Rozarria if you wish," she tells him and earns a strange, slightly distrustful look from Balthier. "I have been there before. It is noisy and crowded. Hume boys will find it easy to be lost there."

"Why? Why would you help me?"

She wonders herself, why the offer seems only natural to make. She thinks perhaps, it might have something to do with Mjrn. She is very much older than Balthier, in hume years, but to a Viera Mjrn is very young.

"Shall we think it is fate?" she asks. "I often go to Rozarria, and you think it is far enough for you to escape..."

"Do you have ship then?" Fran's silence answers him. "How to you get to Rozarria and back without an airship?"

She smiles. "I enjoy walking. The sights are very beautiful."

"No," Balthier says, "that won't do at all."

--

The next morning, Balthier is gone from his cot in her room. Fran is tempted to look for him, but hume boys do as they please and she thinks that he will find her if he wishes to go to Rozarria with her.

Balthier finds her midmorning as she buys the latest bow. His hair clean, as is his face, and Fran was right. He is very handsome.

"Fran? You're a pirate, right?"

No, she is not a pirate. She is a Viera, who will sometimes work for the pirates in Balfonheim if they request her aid. But she has never thought of herself as a pirate.

"Well, anyway, every pirate needs a ship." Balthier's smile curls across his face, and Fran once again thinks he is far too old for one so young. "What would you say if I told you I know where we can get a ship?"

She thinks this has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with him, and she wonders why he is even including her. Has he been waiting for someone to take up his cause? Or has he finally now come to this decision?

"I would say that it is something to think about."

--

It takes them near a week to reach Archades. There are many times that Fran considers returning to Balfonheim and leaving Balthier to his own devices. And it, really, has nothing to do with him. It is just not her way to become involved in hume affairs, least of all these types of affairs.

But then he'll say something that proves to her how young he is despite how old he is, or he will shoot some fiend, or he will trip on a rock and try to play it off with a suave air, and she relents and stays just a bit longer.

She stays long enough for them to reach Archades. Balthier gets them in with relative ease and they camp out in an inn for two days while Balthier solidifies his plan.

Fran likes Archades, though she never admits it to Balthier. Humes always hid their true nature behind masks, and of all the masks, Fran finds Archades' mask the most intriguing in all its ornateness. She doesn't pretend to understand Balthier's thoughts and instead explores the city.

If she hears rumors of the Bunansa son missing, she does not connect it to Balthier. Of course, she could, but there would be little point in it. Balthier will tell her if he wishes, and if he does not, then it hardly matters.

On the third day, Balthier escorts her into the private area of Archades' aerodome. She notices the airship right away. Archades has always made impressive models. It does not surprise her to see it. Nor does it surprise her that Balthier seems to know the precise time to slip into the private quarters, when all the guards have been called off to an emergency in Draklor laboratories.

Balthier is a natural behind the controls, and they are in the air long before anyone misses the ship. Fran takes a place at the navigation panel, wondering why it seems permanent.

"It's called the _Strahl_," he tells her. "I think this should get us to Rozarria easy enough, don't you Fran?"

Fran looks at him, watches him eye the sky, and wonders what his father did to him that caused so much hate in so young a hume. They are often fickle in their emotions, but Fran thinks that this one will stick for a very long time.

And, somehow, she thinks so will she.

--

They do not separate in Rozarria. Balthier says something about every pirate needing a partner. Fran merely laughs and tells him that she has nothing better to do than follow a hume boy around Ivalice.

Balthier is determined to carve a name for himself, and Fran supposes there's nothing wrong with that. Humes only have a very short time to live, and they cope with such a small life span by convincing themselves that they will be remembered when they die. Only Viera understand that a single life is very inconsequential in the grand scheme of time.

Three years after Fran picks up the hume boy Balthier they are in Rabanastre. The city, for the most part, is in a state of celebration. Their princess has been apparently married off recently. Fran does not see what is so grand about an arranged marriage, but she has given up trying to understand hume thinking.

On the night of their third day in Rabanastre, Fran hears Balthier leave his room on the Strahl. She gives him three hours to return and when he does not, she goes to seek him out.

She finds him in the bar called the Sandsea. It is not hard to pick him out in the crowd. He is the only one that is dressed like an Archades man in the Dalmascan bar.

Quietly, she sits beside him. Balthier does not acknowledge her, and instead calls for another shot of whatever alcohol he thinks will drown his woes. Fran has never acquired the taste for liquor ad she merely watches him.

Finally, he says, "I'm nineteen today."

Fran wonders if this is what love is. If this is what the hume talk about when they speak of love, this sudden tightening in her breast, like he is transferring his pain to her and she is gladly taking it from him so he will not have to feel it.

Eventually, Balthier consumes too much alcohol for his blood to handle and she helps him back to the Strahl. Balthier is quite stupid when he is intoxicated, tripping on his own feet. He has always, since she has picked him up in Balfonheim, done everything in his power to try to appear casual and dashing and capable.

To see him like this is an experience. And she wonders if this is love.

After she gets him into the small dinning area on the _Strahl_, he collapses onto the table and watches her from sleepy eyes.

"My name isn't Balthier," he tells her, slurring his words. "It's Ffarman."

This does not surprise her, and she doesn't pretend at it. Balthier laughs and rubs his hand over his face.

"My father is—"

"Doctor Cid Bunansa." Fran finishes.

Her reply seems to sober him somewhat and he stares at her hard, as if he is trying to pick apart her soul. Fran has never viewed him as a threat in that regard, but now she must rethink the label. Balthier has never seemed to care very much what goes beneath the surface of people.

Now she is not so sure. She wonders if Balthier has been studying her, if he knows more about her than she cares to tell him.

"You knew?"

"Yes. When we took the _Strahl_ in Archades, there was much talk about Ffarman Bunansa who had run away from home. You seemed to match."

And so Balthier tells her, about his mother who died young, about his father who systemically lost his mind to the lust of nethecite, about his time as Judge in Archades, about finally leaving to preserve what good memories of his father he could still remember. Everything until the day when he meet her in a dive in Balfonheim.

"See, Fran, if it weren't for you, who knows where I'd be?" Balthier gives her a sloppy smile. "Certainly not the leading man I am today. I was so determined, you know. I had this idea of what a sky pirate was, ever since I was a little boy, and when I left, I thought I'd best try it out, since I failed so greatly at Judgehood."

She wants to tell him that he makes a fine sky pirate, and she is happy to be his partner, and that Balthier is probably much more interesting than Ffarman Bunansa ever was. A boy could not become a good man, so perverted by a father's twisted shadow.

Balthier looks at her. "Are we going to kiss, Fran?" he asks. "Because, sometimes, that's what partners do. Kiss. I'm sure we'd be good at it. Do you want to try?"

Fran chuckles. Where is this fabled tongue she knows he has? Sometimes, if they dock in a port long enough, Balthier goes out with pretty young ladies, and Fran doesn't hold it against him because she understand that humes need to feel that connection to one another, whereas Viera need only to be surrounded by trees to feel that they are apart of all things.

"I think you should sleep now, Balthier," she says.

"Okay," he replies, and does.

Carefully, she pushes his hair out of his eyes and looks into his very handsome face. She wonders what would have happened if she had kissed him. She wonders what would have happened if she told Balthier she thought maybe she was in love with him.

Instead, she covers him with a small blanket, and leaves him passed out on the table.

--

The day after, while he sleeps off all his alcohol, Fran decides that she isn't in love with Balthier. Or, at least, not in the way she was thinking, in the ways of what she heard humes talk.

She cannot, she supposes. No matter how Balthier ages, she will always feel as if she is too old for him, too old for him to understand, and she cannot forget that where his body will wither and fade, hers will not.

Sometimes, she thinks she will tell him that if he had been ten years older, she would have loved him greatly. But instead, she keeps it to herself because it would make Balthier feel awkward and he will not be sure how to act and that bothers him so, and besides he isn't in love with her. What good will it do?

But she cannot help but think that there is more than one way to love a man, and perhaps she loves Balthier in one of the many other ways.

For the first time, she wishes she had spent more time studying hume emotions.

--

When they leave Rabanastre, she requests that they camp in the Ozmone Plain. Balthier doesn't understand what she wants, but he does as she asks.

She tells him about Mjrn and Jote and the Wood and the dullness of her ears, and how she left to prove a point—that Viera may go as they please, that the world outside the Wood is as much as theirs as it is the humes—and everything about her that he doesn't know.

"And they... they just _shunned_ you!?" Balthier demands, pacing back and forth in the _Strahl_'s cockpit, like her words give him too much restlessly energy. "Deny your existence and your past and your _blood_?"

"Viera who leave the Wood are Viera no longer," she tells him. "I have not gone back in fifty years. I do not think I can."

He stops and looks at her, and then shakes his head. "Why tell me? I'm just that whelp that you picked up in Balfonheim out of some kindness in you. Why share this with me?"

"Because I know about your father," she answers, and it is as simple as that. "It does not seem right for you to have no secrets while I have kept mine."

Balthier laughs then and takes her hand in a move that surprises her. He sits down beside her in his pilot's chair and grins.

"Oh, Fran," he says, laughing again. His fingers tighten over hers. "What a pair we are. I think you were right, that night when you offered your room and I was worried you were going to murder me in my sleep and take my meager belongings. It was fate."

She smiles back at him, and thinks that yes, she doesn't love him. But she loves him. It was almost as if she was there at his birth, and she has taken up the mantle of motherhood without truly realizing it, and she feels young and old and ridiculous all at once.

"The gods favor us, Balthier," she tells him. "But I wonder how long that will last? Their blessing will only remain for so long."

--

Balthier takes the fall of Rabanastre hard, especially when he learns of the nethicite's important roll in Nabradia and Dalmasca's defeat. They do not go back when Rabanastre comes under the control of the Empire, as if Balthier is afraid his father will find him there.

Fran does not have the heart to tell him that she doubts very much his father spares Balthier much thought. And if Doctor Cidolfus Bunansa does think on his wayward son, it wasn't Balthier that his mind saw.

News reaches them that the princess of Dalmasca has taken her life. Balthier takes that hard, too. She remembers very little of the princess, only that she got married shortly before Balthier's nineteenth birthday and the entire city was very happy at the arranged marriage.

"I met her once, when she was only about seven or eight." Balthier blinks and looks over at Fran. "Well, not met, you see. That prince of Nabradia had monopolized her attention the entire time, and I was just the son of a somewhat wealthy, somewhat noble, crackpot with a dead wife."

The city will not celebrate now, Fran thinks, and perhaps they will regret ever doing so. Such is the way of humes.

For two long years they avoid Rabanastre, and Fran is slightly saddened by this. She has always been fond of that city. While not as ornate as Archades, the masks the humes wear in that city seem to be the lightest she has ever seen. She supposes it has to do with the sun.

But her mind does not often linger on Dalmasca and its many woes. There is too much to do. They have quite a bounty on their head, and Balthier has made enemies of that Baganaa and his gang, and there are always things to steal.

Then, one night, Balthier says, "Rumor has it there's a great treasure in Rabanastre. What do you say we take advantage of a good old fashioned Dalmascan feat and liberate some treasure beneath those snooty noses?"

_Why are you still trying to hurt your father?_ she wants to ask. At first she resists, but Balthier talks about fame and remembrance, and she is reminded he is just a hume with a hume lifespan and she relents three days later.

--

"Amalia," the hume girl says.

Fran does not need her Viera ears to hear the lie. But she says nothing. She has grown used to being surrounded by young hume children who feel the need to hide their identities.

She always has come to believe that in time, all things will reveal themselves. Secrets rarely stay so.

--

On the way to the Raithwall Tomb, Fran takes Balthier a few feet away from the camp. Not enough to obstruct their view to the camp they are charged with guarding, but enough so wakeful soldiers and princesses cannot hear their words.

"Fran, I know you're worried," Balthier says.

She looks toward the camp. It was one thing to escort the boy and, later, the girl out of the sewers, and to help the boy then get out of the prison. It was acceptable of them to free the unjustly imprisoned knight. And it was their duty to go rescue the girl taken by the Baganaa. Even rescuing the hume girl Ashe was acceptable, because it was out of their power.

This? Yes, she is worried.

"What have we to gain, Balthier?"

"Fran, Raithwall's Tomb is just a treasure trove waiting to be picked clean. Imagine if we get our hands on it." The reasoning is hollow to Fran's ears. They have never been want for treasure.

"Balthier," she says.

"Look, Fran, let's make a deal," Balthier tells her as he smiles at in his must charming way, "if we don't find anything of great value from this little adventure, we'll hightail it out of here. Leave them all stranded in the desert. Vaan can play the leading man."

He laughs at his own joke.

Fran walks back to camp. She knows Balthier will not understand what she understands. She knows what he is not telling her. That this has nothing to do with treasure or fame. In time, he will see that, and she wonders what they will do then.

--

She wonders if their inclusion in this ragtag group is a testament to her ability to be drawn to outcast and misfit humes, or if it a testament to Balthier's strange affinity to those who run from their pasts.

Either way, she is now a part of this group. She would have wanted to leave them after they escaped the Empire's clutches on the _Leviathan_ but Balthier seems to think a small, gold band is compensation enough for their loyalty to this cause.

These people they find themselves banded together with are not all unpleasant. Out of all of them, she prefers Basch the most, but Penelo is sweet and amiable, and there is enough of Balthier in Vaan to amuse her, if at times she wishes he was far from her.

At first, she thinks that is way Balthier stays with them. Because he seems a little bit of himself in Vaan, and knows just how badly he needed someone to show him how to be the man he was trying to be when he was Vaan's age.

Then, she thinks, he is staying because he is tired of running, and perhaps he can sense that they will bring him to his father, and he will finally be able to stop running, to look into the eyes of his demons and know no fear.

And then she knows that is not it at all.

--

"You told her of your father?" she asks the next night they have watch duty together.

Balthier looks at her over his shoulder, the fire illuminating his face, his eyes carefully guarded. "Well, yes. It just seemed to make sense, letting her know. Her path is not so different from his. She could end up like him, if she's not careful."

No. That is not it all, and she wonders why he bothers denying it. She, of all people, knows best when he is lying, but she says nothing of it to him, because she prefers this equilibrium and—perhaps—if she does not give him cause to examine it, it will never grow beyond then what he thinks it is.

It is likely that that makes her selfish, but that is a common emotion for humes, and she has lived in their world for a very long time.

And, she tells herself, she has lived much longer than him, and she knows how these things always end, and she would spare him from it, if she could.

But Balthier is an incredibly stubborn boy. Somehow, she thinks this will be a pipe dream.

--

"Balthier—"

"I know, Ashe. I know what this is. I'm not asking for anything more, alright? What harm could come of this if we're both willing and it will end when it needs to end?"

Fran listens a little more to half-promises in the dark of the night, and wonders at this hume love. She thinks that perhaps it is their gift alone, for she has never felt this.

Eventually, the voices die and she hears footfalls go farther and farther away from camp. She does not follow them, but she remains awake to take up their post while they are gone. She will say nothing of this to Balthier, and they will both pretend that she does not know.

--

She wonders what this Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca has that seems to inspire such loyalty, what attracts men to her. Fran has seen Basch's eyes follow her, with barely hidden longing and Vaan follows her with puppy like eagerness.

Ashe is pretty she supposes, but there is more to her than that. Tragedy has made her fatally beautiful, and she shines with her own inner resilience and it is like she is a fervor and people catch her and they can do naught but follow her where she wills.

With more consideration, Fran concedes that she is not surprised that Balthier seeks Ashe. She would have been more concerned had his eyes fallen to Penelo. But his romance, failed as it is destined to be, is not altogether unsurprising. She just wishes it had not happened,so things would not have to change.

But six years is a very long time for a hume to remain the same. Things could not stay as they were, Fran knows. She could have remained the same, but Balthier could not. She thinks now that she has been preparing herself for it, for the sudden change of their world.

What will come of this, she cannot guess. She is a Viera, not a shaman, and the future has always remained from her grasp. She has only found joy in this.

Once Ashe is queen and has not the time for lowly sky pirates, she thinks maybe things will go back to the way they were. Balthier fancies himself a ladies man, and one for him was always easy to replace with another. Perhaps Ashe will be no different.

--

But it is different. Because he loves her.

When did this hume boy become a man? She has been with him for so very long, how could she have not seen that he grew up? She wants to tell him that no good will come of this, and he must tell his heart to change its mind, but she cannot and she falls silent.

This is the way humes live, she knows. They care very little for logic, and hers would fall on deaf ears and she is not nearly strong enough for that.

--

"I killed him," Balthier whispers.

Fran has nothing to do for there is nothing to say. Humes are strange and they often overweight their words.

"I killed him, Fran." Balthier looks down at his hands, as if he can see blood. But that is ridiculous since his father did not bleed.

He killed his father. Fran would have done if for him, but she had seen the look in his eyes, and had relented in her instantaneous urge to protect him from it. Ashe had seen it too, and she too had allowed Balthier to do what he must.

"Is this what she felt? When she killed Vosler?" he asks himself quietly, his eyes sliding over to where the hume girl lies.

"Balthier, is this wise?"

"What?"

Her silence answers her better than her words and Balthier takes in a deep sigh. He knows, of course, that Fran had knows about him and Ashe. They do not keep secrets.

"I can't... help myself, Fran." A small, half-smile curves his lips and he meets her eyes. "She's going to be the death of me, isn't she?"

Yes, Fran thinks, she will.

* * *

**notes:** what can I say? I am a die-hard Balthier/Ashe shipper, too. But that came after I decided Balthier and Fran had a Han/Chewie relationship. In fact, I paired Ashe off with Basch in the beginning, but Balthier and Ashe kept having subtext.


	2. Part II

**fdisclaimer: **disclaims

**teaser:** many things in this hume world have disappointed her

**author's notes: **jeez, sorry about thef real late update guys. I'm so sorry! School, with the end of the semster being next week, just go so hetic and crazy. I hate like four term papers due at once! Ahh! But anyway, I took a quick break from all my homework to finish posting this. Because I love you guys. No seriously.

* * *

**-Part II-**

After they survive the _Bahamut_ Balthier does not speak on Ashe for near a year. Fran does not question such small miracles.

She suspects that this will not last long, but she will take these moments of peace where she can, fand pray for more of them. She wonders if it is Balthier's vanity that keeps him from the queen. He survived, but there are scars on him now. One jagged one across his cheek, and his chest is a crisscrossed map of ropy, disfigured lines and burn marks.

Fran herself will always walk with a limp, but she hides that the way Balthier does what he can to hide his scars. Viera have grace no matter their state, and very few people would guess at the odd angel she had awaken to find her leg in.

Balthier makes grumbles about the _Strahl_, but Fran does not actually miss the ship. Not in the way Balthier misses it. To Balthier, the _Strahl_ is home. The Wood has always been Fran's home. To her the _Strahl_ is a capable ship filled with memories.

Their stay in Balfonheim is the longest Balthier has ever allowed. They spend their time healing quietly and listening to news. Larsa becomes emperor, and Judge Magistrate Gabranth is not dead, which comes as a surprise to Fran since she was quite sure Basch's brother had acquired wounds most fatal.

Ashe is named queen of Dalmasca, and Fran remembers what is was like to watch the people in Rabanastre celebrate.

It does not surprise her when Balthier says, only a few days before the coronation of one Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, "Fran, what do you say we go and collect our ship?"

She laughs and answers, "Will Vaan be made to part with it?"

The smile Balthier gives her is quite cocky, and he seems his old self again, after spending so much time brooding about a number of things, most of them she is sure has to do with the flaxen haired Dalmascan flower.

--

The night after they retake the Strahl, Fran hears Balthier slip from his room. This time, she gives him no time frame before she follows. She knows where he is going, and it is not her place to fetch him.

How do humes do this? she wonders, handle so much change in so short a time? She can remember when Balthier did not reach her shoulders, when he was dirty and hungry and afraid. Viera remain as they are for a very long time, but humes always seem to be changing, always seem to be undergoing some metamorphosis.

Perhaps this is why Viera do not leave the Wood. It is not easy for a creature of longevity to handle the going ons of those who die faster than one can blink.

If she could, she would go back to when Balthier was but a boy. But such is not the way of the world, and she would not, could not, change Balthier or make him any less or any more than what he is.

When Balthier returns in the morning, she says nothing to him. It is understood that she knows, because secrets are something they no longer keep. Balthier will talk of Ashe if he wishes to speak of her, and Fran will not broach the subject otherwise.

Sometimes it seems to her that Balthier is more Viera than hume, but others times it seems impossible that she ever entertained the notion. Balthier can never be anything more than a hume, just as she can never be anymore than a Viera.

Besides it is not as if Balthier will be made to listen to reason. And Fran is not his mother, no matter how she plays the part. He is a man grown, and if he fancies himself in love with a queen, better he learn the folly on his own.

But Fran wishes... and then stops herself. Wishes are for fools, and she is no fool.

--

They never seem to stray far from Rabanastre, or at least they never seem to go very long without stopping by.

When they leave, Balthier is often in a huff, and he flies the _Strahl_ away from Rabanastre's sprawling architecture as if he seeks to prove a point, that he can leave and not come back. Fran does not pretend to understand hume mating rituals, but she finds the game very silly, and very immature.

When they return, Balthier is as giddy as a schoolboy. He tries not to show it, especially not to Vaan when they meet up with him and Penelo every now and again, but Fran knows that when they leave Rabanastre he forgets how to breathe, and when he returns he remembers.

"Fran, do you think I'm a bloody fool?" Balthier asks one night, after he returns to the _Strahl_ after what Fran only assumes is a failed attempt at wooing. "Chasing after her like a dog with a bone?"

Yes, of course she does, but how can she say that? What does she know of this hume love? She cannot guess what drives mortals to chase after pretty faces and pretty lips. And it is not fair of her to say that to him, when she foresaw this and did nothing.

So instead she repeats a phrase she once heard a wise man say, "We are all fools in love."

Balthier stares at her for a very long time, and Fran wonders if perhaps the words have no meaning in this conversation, but then suddenly Balthier throws his head back and laughs. Not in malice, or cruelly, at her but rather as if he has been seeking humor and has finally found it.

"You always seem to know exactly what to do that's bound to get me into more trouble." He smiles at her. "Thank you, Fran."

She can not even guess to what he means, and nods simply to him. Balthier retires for the night, and their habit of returning to Rabanastre every few months remains as it is. Fran often wonders what she said to Balthier that made him laugh so.

--

As is hume nature, she always finds gossip wherever she goes. Normally, she pays it no mind, but now and again she will listen. Any news of Archades, she turns her ears to—she has learned from Balthier that she was right, and that Gabranth's wounds were indeed fatal, and it is his brother who bares his name. And if she hears of Dalmasca as well.

The whispers of Dalmasca and its queen seem to be the most popular these days. Rumor grows of a fraction of discontents, who cry for revolution and a death to the monarchy. The government they speak of instilling reminds Fran of the Viera's system, with an elected leader who must answer to the needs of the people, or be disposed.

Fran does not think Ashe is so terrible a ruler, but she is female after a long line of male rulers, and often in the aftermath of war, malcontents seek to stir up trouble. It is nothing new to hume nature.

But then she hears of a different rumor entirely, while they linger in a weapons shop in Archades. Balthier has taken back up his gun, though he used a sword for a while, and Fran suspected it had something to do with being able to fight at Ashe's side.

She listens as a woman, who pays no attention to her wandering child, whisper of the queen of Dalmasca, growing heavy with each passing day.

"Rumor has it that philanderer from Rozarria has been making time with the queen, and she's gotten herself with child out of wedlock." The woman kicks up her nose, every bit an Archadian aristocrat. "They're all very loose down there, you know? But if Queen Ashelia wishes to quell that unrest she had best stop her dallying and focus on the state."

Fran looks to Balthier and finds him staring at the woman, his face hard and unforgiving, his hands balled into fists at his side. She steps toward him.

"Excuse, madam," she murmurs to the gossip. "I do believe your son has gotten into the swords."

She quickly takes Balthier from the shop and takes him back to the _Strahl_. He walks stiffly ahead of her, his shoulders tensed and his eyes revealing nothing. She has never seen him so angry, and she wonders at the rumor.

But she says nothing about it. Instead, she waits for Balthier to speak. But he does not. He offers her nothing, and she realizes that they are keeping secrets from one another again and she wishes she had the strength to tell him to stop this foolishness.

"Balthier," she begins, wondering how to best breech this subject, for it cannot go ignored.

"Fran, I don't want to talk about it." His voice is as stiff as his body, as if he can block out the truth. "It's not anything."

"What do you mean?" she asks, being unforgiving for the first time with him. "That it is not Al-Cid who has gotten Ashe with child? Or that there is none to begin with?"

"No, I..." he trails off and strides ahead to the _Strahl_. Fran gives him no quarter. "She told me right before we left, and I—well what was I supposed to do? This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen to us, and those rumors about Magrace have been circling for years now."

She stares at him, wondering at the sudden chill on her skin. She knows now that if he goes back to Rabanastre she will see even less of him, and eventually she will lose him to something of which she can never compete with, but somehow this hurts more. For she has always believed that he was a good man, and this cries false everything she thought of him.

Quietly, Balthier says, "What would you have me do, Fran? I'm a pirate, and she's a bloody queen."

This is yet another lesson for her on the way of humes. They may grow up, but they do not always _grow up._

The only sound between them is the click of her heels as she walks away from him.

--

Vaan makes an unexpected stop in Archades, talking of a lead on treasure, and Balthier takes him up on his offer to go hunting with him. Fran knows that she has hurt him terribly then, because Balthier is always finding a way to avoid going with Vaan.

That is fine. She is quite hurt and angry with him, and she spends their four days apart kicking around the _Strahl_'s engine room. She is sure she is the reason why it takes Nono two days longer than normal to repair the engines.

When he returns they do not speak of Ashe, and they do not often speak to each other. They have gone back to how they were years and years ago, he a mistrustful boy and she a Viera far removed from hume life.

They stay away from Rabanastre for the longest time since Ashe has been crowned queen. Fran says nothing of this, and instead turns her ear toward the gossip that runs rampant through all of Ivalice.

Al-Cid no longer comes to Rabanastre and Rozarria has been made the villain. Fran wonders what Magrace's true purpose was in visiting Ashe, but she will not ask Balthier.

The desertion of the queen's alleged lover does little stem the tide of the angry cries of the Resistance, as they now call themselves. Fran finds it ironic that they would take up the same name to dispose Ashe that she had used to free them from the Empire.

The battle cry of this Resistance is that they are oppressed by the noble class, that they are distorted and ignored so glutton lords can gorge themselves on feasts. That the people on the streets starve, but the queen turns a blind eye. That the world sees Dalmasca as a crock because they are led by a harlot and charlatan.

As the queen grows heavier and heavier with her babe, so do the cries of the Resistance movement. Fran has never see such a thing in all her long life. She fears for Ashe, though she says nothing of it to Balthier. They do no talk often now.

Finally, after nearly seven months away, Balthier turns the _Strahl_ toward Rabanastre. Fran does not know if it is within her to forgive him for being weak, but she knows that weakness is an inherent part of human nature. If it were not so, she would have never found interest enough to leave the Wood.

But as much as weakness is a part of the hume makeup, so is strength.

--

"She told me about the baby the night before we were heading off," Balthier tells her quietly as they entrench the _Strahl_ for that night. They can reach Rabanastre in a day if they so wished, but Balthier is procrastinating and she has not the will to call him on it.

She says nothing, for she has nothing to say. She wonders at the point of this, and suspects it is more for Balthier's sake than her own.

"Fran, I never thought about children, not with her anyway. I mean, it would just cause problems for us both." He shakes his head, as if he does not wish to relive them, these old arguments. "And she told me about the baby, and gods... I was _happy_. How could I not be? Life, making life, it's the ultimate high and thinking about a teaching my own daughter how to pilot and how to dig for treasure..."

He falls silent again and they go for many long moments in silence.

"But then I realized that Ashe's baby wouldn't ever be able to be my baby. I wouldn't ever be able to claim her, and Ashe knew it, and when she looked at me I knew—_knew_—that she didn't expect to ever see me again. She thought I would abandon her, walk away, because to love a woman like her... it's a trial, and honest to the gods thought that after I found out about the child I'd wash my hands of her. Then I thought: why not leave and never return? She already thought the worst of me. I could leave and pretend I didn't want the things a man like me cannot have."

She sees now, or she sees better. Humes take such a long time to grow into adulthood, and they do so by fumbling around and ruining a number of good things before they realize what they want.

That's why Balthier is telling her, so she might understand him as a hume. She accepts this, and accepts his actions, but she still does not forgive him for betraying her image of him. She is a woman herself, and if she had been Ashe, she likely would have thought it was better to assume the worst of him than to be devastated by expecting the best.

"But we can't—_won't_—leave it like this. I'll be damned if I do." Balthier glares off into the horizon, and then carefully looks at her. "I've disappointed you, Fran. I'm sorry."

Yes, he has, but this is not so surprising. Many things in this hume world have disappointed her.

Balthier leaves the _Strahl_ and does not come back for near a week. This is the first time they have been apart for so long since she first met him in Balfonheim.

Fran stays up in her bed, telling herself is not listening for his return, even though she really is.

Maybe it is she who was unfair, Fran thinks to herself. She expected much of Balthier, much more than she expected of any other hume. Perhaps she has painted Balthier without realizing it, and perhaps he had always been destined to flatter short of her admiration.

If so, then she is to fault, not Balthier, for Balthier can be nothing more than what he is.

But by the time Balthier returns, he seems much happier, and talks on parenting and children and they seemed to have restored their relationship somewhat and Fran thinks it is best the past is not dug up, and that sleeping dogs should lie.

--

"Fran," Balthier says quietly in the darkness of her room, and Fran allows herself a moment of surprise that she did not hear him come in. "Fran, are you awake?"

"Yes. Now."

There is a long pause and she hears Balthier take in a deep breath, and wonders what he needs to steady himself to say. She sits up, pushing aside her blanket, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

She has not seen Balthier look so messy since that day in Balfonheim when he had been little more than a knock-kneed grimy boy.

"Balthier speak. Has something gone amiss?"

"No. No. Fran." He sits on her bed and puts a hand over his face, his chest rumbling with laughter. "All saints above, Fran. I'm a sodding father."

The silence between them is deafening. Not because Fran is upset, but rather, she cannot wrap her mind around the image any easier than he can. Perhaps, in her mind, she has never been able to picture Balthier as anymore than the boy he was.

"Can you believe it?" He gives another weak laugh and she wants to wrap her arms around his shoulders to comfort him, but cannot seem to. "A son, Fran. I have son. I'm not going to be a good father. Bloody hell, I'll probably never see him. I know what Ashe said, but that doesn't change how the world works."

No. Very little does.

"Tomorrow night, Fran, we'll have to sneak you into the palace. I need you to see him." The smile that covers Balthier's face is very wide and very true, and she has never seen this smile before, and she feels sad and joyous and foolish. "He's really small, Fran. Like you could probably crush him in your palms. But he's... all the gold in the entire world, Fran."

Now she has the strength and she reaches out and closes her arms around his shoulder and he bursts out laughing. Fran wonders at her own laughter, and the two sit there chuckling like loons into the night.

--

He dozes for some time in her bed while Fran stays up and thinks. At dawn, she rouses him.

"Balthier?"

"Come to claim your revenge on me for waking you up?" Balthier asks. He is a terrible morning person.

"What is your son's name?"

"Holton. It's some ancient Dalmascan name. Holton Cidolfus Dalmasca." Balthier rubs his eyes. "Ashe seems sure that one will make the connection. The Archadian middle name is a sign of good faith."

"Holton is a good name."

--

She never does get to see Holton because just after his birth, the Resistance makes its move. The tension has been thick in Rabanastre for some time, and Fran has observed people quietly choosing their sides.

When Holton Cidolfus Dalmasca is born, the Resistance has all the fuel it needs. Would the people want a bastard child to rule them, to so taint their noble country? The queen would make the child the heir, and insult them all.

Humes are so fickle, Fran finds, when no more than seven years ago they praised Ashe as their savior.

The first skirmish happens one month after Ashe has her son. The Loyalists win that battle, and take the Estersand and quickly make it their base camp. The Resistance falls to the Westersand.

Balthier stays no nights in the palace, and he comes home every evening looking as if he has always lost an argument. Fran understands his worry, for she is too. If Holton is Balthier's, than the babe is hers as well.

"She won't leave," is all Balthier offers. "Says that it'll show weakness to the people if she goes into hiding. Shows damn forethought and brains, is what it shows."

Eventually, the order goes up that all non-Rabanastre residents are to leave for their own safety. Balthier storms out and returns, red in the face. Fran says nothing as they pack the Strahl and take to the skies.

They do not stray far from Rabanastre, no farther than Nalbina. They meet with Vaan and Penelo there and Fran has to all but bash their skulls in to keep them from doing a fool hearty thing like running to Ashe's aid. Vaan's made something of a name for himself, and his coming to Ashe's side would only incite greater anger from the Resistance.

Balthier spends most of his time brooding in the cockpit, and not even Vaan can get him to turn away from his dark thoughts. Vaan views himself something like Balthier's apprentice, and on Balthier's good days he shares the thoughts.

This is not one of Balthier's good days.

Then it happens.

--

The Resistance declares war. The noble and ministers of the court abandon the city. Ashe and the Dalmascan army remain in the palace to defend their country's beliefs.

"She's going to get herself killed!" Balthier roars and Fran, who has been with him for so long, has never seen him so angry. "What is going through that thick head of hers?"

Tomorrow morning, they both decide, they will go to Rabanastre and bring both Ashe and Holton away, kicking and screaming if they must. Ashe may not be able to forgive herself for leaving, but at least she will be alive to try.

Fran sleeps fretfully, and dreams of streets covered in blood and woman clutching children to their breast as war swallows them whole. Civil wars, she finds, are the least pleasant of all wars.

She finds the note pinned on the pilot's seat and she is surprised. And she cannot help but wonder when she stopped knowing Balthier so well. There had been a time, she knew, when they thought almost the same thoughts.

When had he grown so distant from her? And how has she failed to notice?

The note says, _Fran, I'm sorry._

--

She understands that Balthier thinks to protect her. That by leaving without her, she will not follow and will not be caught up in this civil war. Balthier has stopped knowing her so well, too, because she follows him all the same.

The skies near Rabanastre have been restricted and it takes her until mid afternoon to reach the Loyalist base camp in the Estersand. By then, she knows, the damage is already done and she does not know where to begin to look for Balthier.

She entires the small, makeshift camp and sees all the dirty races of the Rabanastre people. Sides do not matter now, she knows. Only surviving. No one wants to die here.

Smoke rises off Rabanastre, like a poison from the inside, and for a long while Fran can only watch it burn. She considers going into the city, but thinks it is likely that Balthier is already out of it, with Ashe and Holton in toe.

She cannot find them among the refugees in the camp, but that does not mean Balthier would still be in the city. She has faith that he would get out. Balthier has no more of a death wish than she does.

It is best, she decides, that she waits for him here. For a very long time now, she has let him go as he pleases, and he has always come back. Why should this time be any different? So she will wait.

That is when she sees Basch.

--

Without his armor, and with his hair cut so close to his head, she cannot mistake for Basch or Gabranth but something in between the two. The Dalmascans do not see him as their traitorous captain—for even now that is how they view him—just as the Archadians would not see him as their loyal Judge Gabranth.

He offers her a nod when she approaches, and Fran remembers why she preferred him best. Of all the men she has met, it is Basch that always seemed to be made of sterner stuff, to be a breed beyond hume male. In his quiet, measured way she thinks he sees more of the world than she ever did.

"We were not allowed to interfere," Basch says to her as she sits beside him in the sand. "Larsa—well, the senate—deemed that this was Dalmascan matter alone. We lack the right to offer any support, to either side."

Then what are you doing here? she wants to ask, but then remembers. Without his armor, he is not Judge Gabranth, and Basch fon Ronsenburg is a Dalmascan son.

"You and Balthier came to add Ashe?" Fran nods and Basch looks to where Rabanastre burns. "Ashe's son, we never thought he was a Magrace. But we—they—could never figure out another name."

"You did not offer your knowledge?" she asks, for surely he must know.

Basch shook his head. "It hardly seemed to matter, who the boy's father was. Besides, Ashe asked me not to tell. So I didn't."

She understands how it can be a simple as that.

"Balthier is in the city?" Basch surmises and does not ask why she is not with him. Perhaps he knows. Fran would not be surprised. "I've heard the the palace has been barricaded off. I don't know by who, though."

"Balthier will come here," Fran says simply. "And he will bring Ashe and Holton. He will not fail in this."

Wisely, Basch says nothing. But his doubt does not need words, not for her.

"He will return," Fran tells him, willing her faith to him. "He always has."

--

And he does return to her, as he always has before. One last time.

For a moment, Fran does not recognize him. He is covered in blood, and his eyes are wild, and he clutches a precious bundle to his chest as if he is afraid someone will snatch it away from him. He arm looks broken, but it is resiliently clutching his gun.

Basch approaches him before Fran and then she feels as if her heart has stopped and follows the knight.

"Balthier," Basch says quietly, like a he is talking to an animal backed up into a corner. "Balthier."

But Balthier ignores Basch, his eyes latching onto Fran's and his arms shaking, as if the weight in them is too great.

"Fran," he says and she hurries over to him. She has never heard that tone of voice before. "Fran, here. Take him. Please."

Instinctively, her arms encircle the bundle Balthier thrusts into her arms. It is warm and heavy and when she looks down she sees the face of a sleeping baby, barely visible through all the cloth it is wrapped in.

And she knows. "Balthier."

"Ashe?" Basch presses, carefully taking Balthier by his arms to steady him. Blood runs freely down Basch's hands and the whites of Balthier's shirts are dyed with a red that makes Fran's stomach churn. "What happened to Ashe?"

Balthier says nothing. It is more than enough.

"I'm sorry, Basch," is all Balthier offers and his arms keep shaking. He turns to look at Fran, and he smiles, blood running down his lip. "Fran. Fran, I know I've asked a lot of you over the years, and I know you've put up with a lot, but I need you to do this one last thing for me."

Her fingers close over the tiny, precious weight of Balthier's son. She cannot speak over the tears the rise in her throat, so she cannot say _no you must not go back_.

"I can't leave her there," Balthier says and reaches out to run one finger down Holton's head. "Basch, tell Vaan that he needs to pull more to the left when he fires. He'll understand what you mean."

"Balthier," Fran starts, and it is the only thing she can say.

He does not hear her as he turns away. He walks stiffly, as stiffly as he did that day in Archades when everything between them fundamentally changed, and Fran knows that she has already lost him.

She moves to go after him. If he must die, let them die together, but she stops because Holton opens his mouth and screams unhappily, and by the time she looks up for Balthier, he is gone, and she will never see him again.

For a very long time, Fran stands in the blistering Dalmascans sand, holding Balthier's son, and watching Ashe's city burn, and then Basch touches her shoulder and murmurs that the Loyalists have surrendered, and she knows that she must go.

Basch helps her pilot the _Strahl_, while she tends to Holton, who has become happy with nothing.

"Where would you like to go?" Basch asks, his voice thick with his own mourning.

Fran closes her eyes, her face numb. It feels surreal. After the fight for Dalmasca, it seems so improbable that it could be lost with so little resistance. Why is there no grand fight? No great enemy or evil god?

How can it fall so simply, as if this is the only path it could have taken?

She remembers Balthier's face, in the dust and dirt and sand of Dalmasca. That look in his eyes. Fran will never forget. He was dead long before he gave her the baby to care for. He was dead the moment Ashe fell, and he lived only to protect his son.

"I wish to go home," Fran says.

--

No hume baby have ever been in Eryut Village before. Mjrn is curious and spends all of her time with Holton, which allows Fran some rest, though she cannot trust Mjrn with the baby for very long.

"I am sorry, Jote," Fran says when her older sister approaches her. She can read her sister very easily, and she is surprised to find she has missed it greatly. "But I knew no where else to go. The hume child... those that killed his parents will seek him if they find he lives. I need a few days."

"You shall have them," Jote says, surprising all. "Fran, I—I am very sorry. For what you have lost."

"Four days. That is all I ask."

The unspoken words hang between them. _This is why Viera do not leave the Wood._

Viera are not creatures meant to mourn.

--

It only takes two. She suspects she has Basch to thank for that.

"But why must you go?" Mjrn asks. "Should he not stay here, for his own safety? Hume babies are so tiny. He will surely die out there, in the hume world."

Mjrn has never seen a babe before. Neither has Fran. But she knows humes well now, and knows they are capable of things far beyond Viera comprehension.

"No. His world is the hume world. That is where he must grow." She could no more divorce this boy from his heritage than she would her own. "And the law states that no one but Viera may live in the village. Neither of us are Viera."

"Jote will not be our leader forever, Fran." Mjrn eyes sparkling with determination, as if she could shape the world with her will alone, and it reminds Fran of Balthier and makes her chest ache. "One day, I will be leader, and I will change the law, no matter what, and you will come back, and you will bring the hume babe too."

Fran gives her sister a smile. She has no doubt Mjrn will do as she says, but she suspects that Holton will be a baby no longer when it happens.

--

Penelo and Vaan stay with Fran for some time after Balthier and Ashe die. Fran is grateful for the help with caring for Holton, which is no easy task.

Viera are poorly made for motherhood, she thinks now. She knows not the first thing of caring for the child, and she does not take to it the way Penelo so naturally does. She cannot understand the baby's limitations and abilities, and she is so afraid of breaking him.

But Balthier asked her to care for him, and she will do her best.

--

Basch sends word sometime after Vaan and Penelo join her on the _Strahl_ that they will be honoring the dead in Archades, and by his request Balthier's name has been added to the list of the fallen.

He will not be named as the father of Ashe's child, nor will it be mentioned his connection to Ashe. He will be honored for his death, and for fighting for Dalmascan sovereignty.

It is not fair to not go, not when she is caretaker of Holton, and so she bundles him up and takes the _Strahl_ to Archades for the funeral rites.

She finds Holton's name on the list of the dead on the large tombstone that has been erected to honor all those who lost their lives to a blood feud. He is there _Holton Cidolfus Dalmasca_ and she runs her fingers along his name, right below Balthier's and for a moment all she can do is stare at it and relive each memory she has of him.

This is Basch's gift, she knows. His gift to Ashe. Her son's life. With Holton dead to all but a few, no one will hunt him as they would no doubt do if they had a thought that he was alive. And so Basch gives Ashe's son his life.

Fran will gave Balthier's son his future.

She stays only in Archades for an hour. It is hard to look upon the streets and know this where is Ffarman Bunansa grew up, and this where he lost faith in his father, and this is where her Balthier was dreamed of.

When she leaves Archades, Fran is not sure if she will ever able to return. Hume hearts may forget, but Viera remember long after time has weathered away all remnants of the memory.

--

When Penelo finally leaves them, after Fran has convinced the girl she is more than capable of caring for a small hume child, Fran slips into Holton's room, which was once Balthier's. It seemed only appropriate to her that he reside there.

Vaan made Holton's crib, so it is rustic and rudimentary at its best. But where it is crude, it is strong, because it was made with love and devotion.

Balthier had been right. Vaan had understood Balthier's words to him. He took them to heart, but would not explain them.

She hovers at the edge of Holton's crib and watches his tiny, hume boy face in the half-light. She breathes quietly and then reaches a hand out to touch his cheek. He doesn't crack beneath her fingers and it is almost as if she has released a breath she has long been holding in.

And all she wants to do is pick the hume baby up and hold him and rock him, because he will not break in her arms, and this is the last piece of Balthier that is left in the world. This is his last gift to her.

Of course. She had forgotten. Humes are the strongest creatures she knows of. And, maybe, maybe she can raise Balthier's son.

--

_Holton is silent for a good long while, but she is content when she sees no regret in his eyes. She wonders if this why she had unconsciously acted as Balthier's biographer. She wonders if there was some way for her to know that this would come to pass._

_"Thank you," he says at last, running a hand through his hair. "I needed to hear that. From you."_

_Yes, he did. And it was not fair of Fran to keep it from him for so long. It was just that she often didn't think of him as Balthier and Ashe's son anymore, but rather her own. And she refuses to feel any guilt for that._

_"If you wish to know more about your mother, you should ask Basch. He knew her best."_

_"Maybe I will."_

_Fran observes Holton. If his hair was not so blonde and his face not so serious, she would often mistake him for Balthier. She has always been thankful for Ashe's hair and that serious countenance._

_When Holton leaves her to track down Vaan for one reason or another, she stays in the kitchen in the Strahl._

_In her village, there was an old legend that says that a Viera can only give her heart once and can never again love a thing, and that was why Viera cannot leave the Wood. Because it is easy to love things, but it is not so easy to survive the loving of them when you love for so long a time._

_But she has given her heart many times. First to the hume world, and all its uniqueness, and then to grimy boy she met once in Balfonheim, and then to the sky pirate he became, and then to Balthier's son because he was Balthier's son, and then to Holton Cidolfus Bunansa because he was Holton._

_A smile curves Fran's lips._

_Perhaps she is more hume than Viera now. If that is the case, she has one more reason to be thankful to Balthier, and she owes so much to him already. What a surprise, thinking that in the beginning she was the one helping him but he ended up saving her._

_Did he know? Balthier had such shocking moments of clarity that she wonders if he had known that he'd give her a good purpose, which is a rare thing for a Viera who has no Wood to speak to. Maybe, maybe not. It does not matter. That is not the point._

_Fran thinks that perhaps she will return to Archades, and Balthier would be pleased.

* * *

_

**notes:** bet the title makes sense now, doesn't it? And yes, I killed off Balthier _and_ Ashe. I had to. The story called for it. I go where the muse dedicates. Plus, it kind of seemed, to me, to be full circle with Fran. She took care of Balthier, and now she's going to take care of Balthier's son. Or she did, considering.

**reviews**

**Anubuko****:** ah thank you! Fran's such a difficult character to pin, since she keeps nearly all her thoughts to the vest, but I think that's part of her charm. I mean, who knows what Fran really thinks? Even Balthier might not. And sorry about the lateness of the second part. Oh, and the angst.

**Zaz9-zaa0****:** the origins of Balthier and Fran interest me. I can't exactly picture it like a Han and Chewie background. Mostly, I think Fran let Balthier along and then decided to keep an eye on him. As for the Balthier/Ashe stuff, I have a number of oneshots about them on livejournal, but unfortunately (or fortunately) they're all smut and therefore NC-17. Goes against 's standards. XP


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